Another week, another hangover...
Dawn was kind enough to book a room for MacCready at the Dugout Inn, but she was always sleeping elsewhere within Diamond City. Nevertheless, she collected him in the morning with that same punctuality. Eight o'clock, on the dot.
He was mostly used for grunt work at first. She had saved up enough caps to buy a place called Homeplate by the city market, and everyday he was tasked with either moving in some furniture or taking out some trash from inside. After a week, the place was spruced up, and it was definitely the nicest home he's ever been in.
According to Dawn, the place still needed some work. She blabbered something trivial – painting the walls or something – but he never listened. MacCready sparked up a cigarette and puffed away whilst she described her plans of grandeur for her new house.
"Listen," he began, interrupting her mid sentence. "I'm gonna go out for a sec. Got some things I need to do."
She looked at him with a thoughtful expression. "Sure."
He didn't hesitate to leave her in the house. The Intel letter was still in his front pocket, and he needed to get it delivered. There was a courier service offered by the guards at the City entrance, and after haggling a suitable price to get the courier to deliver his message to dangerous Gunner territory, the letter was finally on its way.
Even though the letter is now no longer in his pocket, the weight on his chest still lingered.
X
"You geared up?" Dawn asked as she strapped on some armor to her shoulders. Her backpack was swapped out this time, alternatively she now donned a series of utility pouches to her waist and thighs. MacCready had never seen her travel light until now, and a certain anxiousness crept up to him as he wondered what she was planning.
He didn't let his worry show. Instead, he gave her his signature smirk as he holstered a newly bought pistol to his side. "I'm cocked, locked, and ready to rock, boss."
Dawn gave him her own smirk, the fire returning to her impish features. "Good," she approved. "We need to get to Goodneighbor. Who knows what kinda trouble we'll run into on the way there."
Another smirk was his reply as they both set out of Diamond City. Dawn took lead, her strides strong and confident as they marched on. He noticed that there was a certain fire in her today; much more confident than the meek woman he picked up in the Third Rail. Despite this obvious change, MacCready couldn't decide whether or not this change was a good thing. Sometimes, overconfidence can lead to disaster.
Gunfire could be heard in the distance, and it echoed off the dilapidated buildings around them as they trekked through Boston. Dawn seemed more alert this time as she altered her course to be closer to walls and cover should they need it. Based off their ambush attack from raiders the last time they walked through the city, Dawn has visibly learned her lesson by being vigilant.
MacCready closed the gap between them, tapping her on the shoulder to get Dawn's attention. "Sounds close, want me to scout ahead?"
She shook her head. "Best if we stick together." Her expression shifted to something more serious. "I know there are some gunners round the block from Goodneighbor. There's a shortcut we can take, I can bribe them to let us pass through-"
"No." He winced when he realised how quickly he protested. Dawn's expression soured further.
"I've done it many times before," she said as she glared at the mercenary. "These guys don't give a shit as long as you pay them. They won't give us any trouble."
Before he could object further to her plan Dawn pushed forward on her new route, determined on her detour north and away from the gunfire. They travelled quietly, talking only when necessary. It wasn't long before they were in the shadow of the Mass Fusion Building, a looming skyscraper which functioned as an outpost for the Gunners. MacCready looked up with distaste as they neared it.
Dawn slowed her stride as they rounded the corner. Two gunners were patrolling on the road ahead, each with a weapon drawn and watching the duo as they approached.
"One step closer and you're dead!" The taller of the mercenaries hollered down the street, halting Dawn mid-step. She pulled out a bag of caps from one of her utility pouches and held it up in truce. The action made them lower their guns slightly, but they were still visibly cautious.
"I just want to pass through." She tossed the bag at them, the caps rattling audibly as it landed at their feet. "There's a hundred caps there for your trouble."
MacCready glared at the two gunners as one of them picked up the bag, weighing it on the palm of his hand before putting it away. Both of them holstered their guns, satisfied with the trade and beckoned them through. Dawn shot MacCready a knowing smirk over her shoulder before carrying on ahead, but he didn't share the sentiment. It was a waste of caps, and it took all of his resolve not to scold her for the transaction.
He trudged past them as he pulled his hat further down his forehead and pulled up his collar in an attempt to hide his face, making sure to not make any eye contact with the mercenaries, but he halted when a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. He reeled around to face them with a scowl.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" The taller gunner said as he stood over him. MacCready shirked the hand from his shoulder and stomped away with a muttered curse. Dawn was waiting expectantly at the entrance of Goodneighbor, hands folded over her chest as she curiously studied her hired gun.
"What was that-" she began but was cut off when he shouldered past her.
"Just get in, will ya." He snapped. "Do whatever you came here for. I'll be in the Third Rail when you're done."
She scoffed at his brusque change of attitude before she batted the hat off his head with a swift hand. "What is wrong with you?" Dawn stepped in front of him, blocking his path to the bar. "The hell, Mac? What did I do this time, huh?" He was about to reply but she quickly picked up his hat from the floor and shoved it into his chest. "Y-you know what, forget it. I'll find you when I'm finished."
He heard her scold herself under her breath as she walked away, shaking her head in the process and leaving MacCready alone in the town entrance. He spotted Daisy in his peripheral. She was also shaking her head as she watched him from behind her shop counter; he chose to ignore her too as he dusted off his hat before he slipped it on and made his way to the Third Rail.
X
Red tinged smoke hung in the air, complemented with familiar tones of Magnolia's sultry voice and the low chatter of other vagabond's that have wandered into the main bar. The whole evening was a haze of one stiff drink to the next, and the young mercenary had lost track of time before Charlie reminded him that the bar closes in ten minutes.
MacCready rolled his eyes at the Mr. Handy robot as it noisily threw an empty beer bottle into a glass bin behind the bar as if to prove a point, but he heeded its warning and downed the remainder of his drink before trundling outside. It was incredibly dark out, and he blindly stumbled to the bench underneath the balcony of Mayor Hancock's usual perch. His boss still had not made an appearance since their earlier altercation, and he was anxious with the thought of whether or not she had abandoned him and left.
"So, are you gonna visit me or not?"
He could recognise that husky voice anywhere, and he looked up from under the brim of his hat to see Daisy standing over him, her black eyes twinkling in the darkness. "Sorry Daisy," he mumbled, but couldn't think of anything else to say.
Daisy sat down next to him, chuckling to herself as she did so. There was a small envelope in her weathered hands, crumpled and bent from the journey it had endured. She held it out to him, and MacCready slowly held it with his own calloused hands. A letter from Duncan, and he tucked it away into the recesses of his duster to be read at a later time.
"So, who are you travelling with this time?" She asked. MacCready shrugged as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself. "I remember her selling me a hazmat suit over a month ago, but I didn't catch her name."
"Dawn," was his reply. He chose not to divulge further. "She's supposed to meet me here, but I think she might'a forgot about me or something..."
Daisy hummed to herself in thought. "This happen often?"
"Nah," he sighed a small puff of mist into the cold air. "She pays well, though. Which reminds me..." He sat up to pull out his own stash of caps from his pocket and handed it to the ghoul. "Send this to Duncan for me, please."
Daisy looked at the large bag in her hands, then frowned in realisation. "No letter for him this time?" She pressed as she set them down on her lap. "That's real unusual of you, Robert."
Her statement hung in the air as MacCready bit his lip in thought, truly at loss of what to say to his dear friend. Daisy didn't push for an answer, a trait of hers that he really appreciated of her. Sure, Daisy may be curious, but he never felt obliged to divulge every little thing about himself to her. If he wanted his space, or his secrets, Daisy never showed offence. But he knew that at the drop of a hat, she would always support him if he brought himself to ask for the help.
His thoughts stopped when he spotted Dawn ahead, stumbling from the Rexford to the entrance of the Memory Den. "Thanks Daisy, but I've gotta go," he said as he stood up and walked towards his boss. Whether or not Daisy replied, he didn't know; as all of his focus was on Dawn.
And his boss was heavily inebriated.
"Boss," he called out as he approached her. Dawn paid him no mind as she wobbled on her feet, her hand gripped firmly on the door handle to the Memory Den. The door gave way and she tripped inside. "H-hey, where are you going?"
The door clattered shut behind her, and MacCready winced at how loud the noise was in comparison to the still night. He entered the Den with more grace than his employer and scanned the room for any clue of where she went.
He did not have to search far when he heard Irma sigh with exasperation at the far end of the hall.
"Oh honey, I told you, going back into those pods will not help you." Irma's tone was gentle, but it still snapped with a certain finality a parent would use when scolding a child. She had both hands on Dawn's shoulders, either to maintain her concentration or to prop up the drunk woman, but it was obvious that her words did not settle well with the vault dweller when Dawn wriggled out of her grasp.
"Just... n-no! Just once!" Dawn's voice broke halfway as she choked on her own tears. "Please, I'm gonna forget his face! I-I need to see my husband again!"
He had seen enough.
"Irma!" He snapped his fingers at Dawn as he shouted to the manageress. "She's with me. I'll take her to the Rexford to sleep it off."
Irma looked up at him with a pleading look, then smiled apologetically at Dawn. "C'mon hon, you've had a hard day. Get yourself some rest." She guided Dawn towards MacCready, whom stood by the entrance with one of his infamous scowls set upon his features. "He'll take you to your room."
Dawn sniffed when she realised Irma was referring to him. "He's an asshole..." She slurred, which only caused his scowl to deepen.
"Tell me something I don't know." MacCready grunted as he escorted Dawn outside, but his blue eyes hardened when he fully took in Dawn's appearance as they walked to the hotel. The circles under her eyes were much darker than before, and her skin was pale and clammy on her face and neck. Her irises, usually focused and sharp, were completely dilated and dull. Another curse escaped from his lips before he could stop it when he realised exactly what state she was in.
His question was blunt. "What chem are you on?"
Dawn shrugged as she mumbled incoherently.
You pathetic little...
"Fine," he snapped. "Don't tell me. Just don't make it a habit."
Of all the things she could have done, MacCready did not expect her to stoop to using chems. She had her emotional baggage, and she did talk about her pre-war life so often that it now began to grate on him. But for her to drown her sorrows? That was new.
He took a hit of whatever he could get his hands on at one point in the past, but that was when he was at his lowest. Losing Lucy and leaving Duncan in the care of someone else... that tore him. His chest would still ache if he thought of it too much, but he quickly learned that chems was not the answer. As soon as he came down from the high his problems clawed back and welcomed him with open arms. Escape was not the answer.
"Day tripper..." She whispered when they entered the hotel. MacCready gripped her by the arm as he nearly dragged her up the stairs, her balance from the sudden onset of vertigo was causing her to lean dangerously with each step she took. "Fred rec... recommend... he said-"
"I know," he sighed. They had finally reached the hallway on the top floor, but MacCready had to prop Dawn up against the doorframe; one hand on her shoulder to stop her from tipping over and the other to open the room door. He beckoned her inside, but not before rolling his eyes when she swayed inside and tripped up on the corner of the bed. "Easy there..." He steadied her once more and plopped her down on the bed.
"Don't want to sleep." Dawn sounded so forlorn when she said that. He felt no pity towards her – getting herself into this mess was her fault – but now was not the time to reprimand her. "M'not tired."
"You may not be tired now, but you will be." He set down his rifle and hat on the couch, then strode back to Dawn to set aside her own guns. Now unarmed – and safe – he gently pushed back her shoulder to make her lie down. "Just ride out the high and you'll feel sleepy soon enough. Day tripper will give you highs in waves; don't fight it, and don't try to control it."
"Okay..." She closed her eyes, taking in his advice. "Feels like I'm sinking."
"Relax," he soothed as he went to sit on the couch. His rifle was relocated to the floor, but within arm's reach should he need quick access to it. "Nothing's gonna happen. I'll be right here, so you don't have to worry."
It was silent from then on, bar the sounds of Dawn's gentle breathing and the snores from the room next door. Sleep was out of the question for MacCready. He was tired – exhausted, even – but he chose the peace of mind when it came to his pay check keeping herself out of danger, or to not choke on her own vomit in her sleep. If she had a bad turn, he would be able to coax her back to normalcy. He at least knew what to do.
Back when he was running with the gunners some new recruits had decided to take a hit of psycho they scored from clearing out a raider camp. The theory was that performance in combat would be greatly enhanced; it was created for military purposes before the war after all. But as the night wore on, the high got worse for them. MacCready was unfortunate enough to be the one to discover them when the group started their trip in hell. The syringe did not contain a full dose of psycho, but it was cut with a cocktail of some other unknown drugs.
He was the one who kept them from completely going out of control. Their weapons were confiscated, they were kept in safer territory and MacCready was the one who constantly reassured them as they came down from their high. It was challenging, and he made sure to chew out the recruits once they were sober, but at least it was an experience he could learn from.
Thankfully, Dawn was much easier to handle.
The first rays of daylight shone through the slats of the window when morning finally came. MacCready was drained at this point, and he could easily fall asleep on the couch, but Dawn had finally woken up with an audible jolt as she shot up from the bed.
She clutched her head in her hands as she calmed down her breathing.
"Are you finally sober?" MacCready snapped. "First you disappear for ages, then you bother Irma in the Memory Den; and just when I thought my evening couldn't get any better, you decide to get high on fucki- freaking Day Tripper! The hell were you thinking?"
Dawn was still in the same position on the bed, but her breathing had finally slowed to normal. She didn't attempt to make any eye contact as she decided to finally move and stand up. "Get ready," she announced. "Dr. Amari told me that there's a group called the Railroad. They have the technology to decode the courser chip I have."
"Yeah, sure, sure... dodge the question." He heaved himself up from the couch, snatching his rifle from the floor and shoving his hat forcefully onto his head. "I don't even know why I bother talking." He paused when Dawn stepped in front, her eyes wide and conflicted as she silently studied him. It was awkward, not to mention tense for him to be so openly stared at, and he didn't know exactly what to do or say. So, he stood still; and waited.
"You look tired," she said.
No shit, hewanted to say, but something told him not to pop at her again. "I am tired."
Dawn casted her gaze down at this point, her expression slightly souring at his statement. "Were you up all night for me?"
"Yeah."
Whatever she was thinking, it was hard to discern from her expression. There was a certain resolve which returned to her upon that revelation, and she steeled as she was suddenly a flurry of movement around the room. Guns, ammo, combat boots... she packed them all and clipped on her utility belt. "It won't happen again," she reaffirmed when that last of her ammo pouches were secured to her waist. "Now get some sleep. I'm just going to talk to Mayor Hancock for a while. When you're rested and ready, meet me at his place."
And with that, she left.
Without argument, he took her advice and set himself on the bed to sleep.
X
When anyone visits the Old State House of Goodneighbor, they often tread carefully when in the presence of Fahrenheit. A formidable woman with an equally strong presence, she stood before MacCready as he entered the building. He never liked the woman, with her sharp tongue and condescending sneer, but he couldn't help but feel some respect for her. She was, after all, the Mayor's right-hand man, and she did her job incredibly well.
"MacCready," she said, arms crossed as she loomed over him. "Would'a thought you'd be slumped in some alley at this time. Good to know you do other things besides drinking yourself blind."
He rolled his eyes. "Make yourself useful and get out of my way," he warned. She didn't budge. "Or is the stick up your ass too big for you to move?"
This only made her scoff. "Nice, Mac. Shame that running your mouth isn't as good as you running from your problems." With that last remark she gave passage to the sniper with a small step to the side. "Hancock is upstairs with that Minuteman shrimp you've been travelling with, unless you're here for yet another loan; it's not like your debt is bigger than your grave."
He didn't even make an attempt to look at her when he sauntered upstairs. As much as he wanted to shout other obscenities at the bodyguard, his promise and his unhealthy respect for the woman stopped him from doing so. He wasn't here to spit insults at Fahrenheit, he was here to meet Dawn.
When he entered the Mayor's office, Hancock and Dawn were still busy talking as they sat across from each other among the tattered sofas. Hancock was no doubt high on jet, his skeletal hands jittering and moving animatedly as he spoke. His boss was thankfully uninebriated, and she suggested calmly about her plans for trade with one of her nearby settlements. A steady supply of ammo from Goodneighbor for regular shipments of food from County Crossing. A fair deal that Hancock was happy about.
"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you're building an army," Hancock chuckled as he inhaled another puff of jet. His black eyes glazed ever so slightly as he relaxed into his chair. It was then that he noticed the mercenary in the room, and Dawn followed his gaze to see that her hired gun has arrived. "MacCready, huh? That's a hell of a gun you've got at your back."
MacCready gave him his signature smirk. "I aim to please," he said as decided to pull out a cigarette to spark. Dawn rolled her eyes at his comment, but gave Hancock a small smile as she stood up.
"Pleasure doing business with you," She said as she shook Hancock's hand. "I'll come visit the next time I'm passing through here."
"No sweat." He took her hand to his lips for a chaste kiss, only letting go to tip his hat slightly. "You take care of yourself out there."
A small blush creeped up to the tips of her ears, made obvious by her sudden urge to tuck her hair behind them. Dawn quickly walked out, beckoning MacCready to follow her as they finally made their way outside.
"So," MacCready coughed after a rough toke on his cigarette before he offered it out to her. "Where to, boss?"
She picked the cigarette from his fingers and breathed in the smoke. She threw the butt on the ground and exhaled a puff of her own. "We follow the Freedom Trail."